


Stone Cold Sober

by stellarmeadow



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Beaches, Drunkenness, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-02
Updated: 2011-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 00:37:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarmeadow/pseuds/stellarmeadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Danny on the beach with beer and not-so-hidden agendas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stone Cold Sober

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imaginarycircus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarycircus/gifts), [zarah5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarah5/gifts).



> Originally a comment fic for zarah5's [lyrics prompt post](http://zarah5.livejournal.com/74342.html?thread=2786662#t2786662) on LJ. The line was ""You think I'm crazy, a little bit hazy, but I'm stone, cold, sober" (from Paloma Faith -Stone Cold Sober).

"I'm just saying that it's not natural," Danny said, digging his empty beer bottle into the sand next to the other five.

Steve frowned at the bottles all lined up, like a row of soldiers prepared for a fight. They reminded him of something, but he was just hazy enough from his own row of empties to have trouble placing it. They'd abandoned the chairs in favor of the sand an hour ago, at least, but Steve wasn't quite sure when they'd started lining up bottles between them like...chess pieces, that was it. Two rows of pawns facing off. "I'm pretty sure 'natural' is actually part of the definition of the tans of most people in Hawaii, Daniel."

Danny's brows almost met in the middle at that as he pulled a fresh beer out of the cooler. "Don't call me Daniel."

"O...kay," Steve said. "Isn't that your name?"

"Rachel always called me that when I was mad at her." He thought about that for a second. "When she was mad at me," he corrected. "You," Danny said, pointing his bottle at Steve, "are definitely not Rachel."

God help him, Steve actually thought Danny's hint of a slur and slight listing to the right from the alcohol was cute. The knot of his tie was halfway down his chest, and three buttons were undone, and Steve was enjoying the view in the bright moonlight. "True," Steve said. "I'm not British. Definite difference there."

"Nope. Not British."

"Also, I'm a guy."

Danny nodded as if that was an excellent point. "I had noticed that," he said, taking a sip of his beer. "Definitely noticed that."

His tone had Steve frowning. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, Steven--"

"And how come you get to call me Steven?"

"Because it's your name. And you don't have an ex-wife." This time Steve could swear Danny's brows really did meet in the middle. "Did Catherine call you Steven?"

Did? As in past tense. He didn't remember telling Danny that he and Catherine had called it quits. He'd been dropping subtle hints designed to make Danny ask, but so far, he hadn't. Hm. "No."

"Good." Danny finished off his beer, and Steve wondered how he'd managed that so fast as he dug it in next to the others.

"So, you were saying?" Steve prompted.

"Right. You," he said, pointing with his finger this time, "are a guy. And I'm a guy."

Steve nodded. "That is true."

"And it's different, and you shouldn't call me Rachel."

"I didn't call you Rachel."

"No," Danny said, sounding exasperated. "What Rachel called me."

"Oh." He got it now--clear lines between their friendship and anything that might even be construed as something over that line, that might hint at any kind of intimacy where none existed. "I see."

Danny's growl was unexpected. "You don't," he said, "not if you have aneurysm face."

"I...don't see?"

"No, you don't, because--oh fuck it." Danny swiped all their empties off to the side with one hand and reached out, yanking Steve to his knees and over until they were both lying on their sides in the sand. Before Steve could react, Danny was kissing him like there was no tomorrow, making it very clear Steve had misunderstood.

He'd never been so happy to be wrong before.

Danny tasted like pizza and smelled strongly of beer, and felt so warm and amazing that Steve didn't want to let go. Ever. "So," he said when Danny finally gave him time to breathe, "I'm not Rachel."

"No, you are something else entirely," Danny said.

He thought that sounded good, but it was still hard to tell. If it was just the alcohol.... "But something good?"

Danny smiled. "Definitely something good," he said, pausing for another kiss. "Very good indeed."

"Oh, good, because I...." Steve trailed off as he realized the sand under his shoulder had very little give. And felt wrong. "Danny, why is the sand wet?"

"We're on the beach?"

There was something off about his tone. "It's low tide. And the water never gets this high."

"I don't know, it's not my beach."

Steve sniffed, realizing the strong beer smell was coming from the ground, not Danny. And Danny was suddenly sounding a lot more sober. "Did you pour all your beer out?"

"No?"

"Okay, then, did you pour _most_ of your beer out?"

Danny's eyes darted around as if looking for a loophole. "Maybe?" he said at last.

"Why?"

"Um...because I thought if I made a pass at you and it backfired, being drunk would be a good excuse?"

Steve considered that for a moment. "Then why not just get drunk?"

"Where's the fun in finally kissing you if I can't remember it later?" Danny asked in a tone that clearly indicated Steve was mentally deficient.

"Oh." He replayed that in his head. "Wait, 'finally'?"

"Yes, 'finally.' You think I just decided today, 'Hey, I think I'll potentially fuck up almost everything good in my life on a whim'? Because I am not that person, Steven."

Steve pushed his hand up from the back of Danny's neck into his hair, loving the contrast of the soft strands with the gritty sand on his fingers. "I know you're not. Why do you think I was getting drunk?"

He loved the confused look on Danny's face, the bewildered blinking that usually showed up when Steve was about to blow something up that Danny (and only Danny...and maybe the governor) deemed unnecessary. But this confused look was special. "You were working your way up to kissing me?" Danny asked.

Steve nodded. "For once you actually got the jump on me."

"Considering that getting the jump on you would usually require jumping _off_ something very unsafe, I am okay with staying behind you most of the time, thanks. Besides," Danny said, his hands moving down Steve's back to his ass, "the view from back there ain't bad."

And really, Steve couldn't remember the last time he'd blushed. "How do you feel about sex on the beach?" Steve asked.

"Well, if it's the only horizontal surface available...I'd consider it. However," Danny said, stretching a little, making Steve's breath catch as he felt Danny's body moving against his, "given that you have a very nice bed upstairs, I'd rather not get sand in my ass."

Steve laughed, his forehead falling against Danny's for a moment. "All right," he said, pushing off the sand and jumping to his feet, reaching down to pull Danny up with him. "Upstairs it is." He looked down at the cooler. "Should I bring the rest of the beer?"

"Do you need it?" Danny asked, sounding like he was halfway to offended.

"Not even a little."

"That's what I thought," Danny said, grabbing Steve's hand and dragging him into the house.

\---

END

**Author's Note:**

> Want to learn more about me and my writing? Visit my page at <http://www.jamiemeadowswrites.com/>


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